Home
by Cricket24
Summary: Logan comes home. Scott/Logan oneshot.


_Title: Home_

_Author: Cricket24_

_Rating: T (for language)_

_Pairing: Scott/Logan (Logan POV)_

_Summary: Logan comes home._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one._

_Reviews: Welcome and appreciated._

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I turned off the engine of the bike as I rolled through the front gates. I didn't think anyone would have appreciated the thunderous roar of the dual exhaust approaching the mansion at 2am. There used to be a time when I wouldn't have given a shit, but things have been changing . . . with me, with my life as I've known it to be to this point. Lately, I've been starting to care about things other than myself. Been starting to care about other people. I wasn't sure if I was dealing with that very well at the moment. That's part of the reason I took off . . . again. But it's also the reason why I'd only been gone for three weeks this time. Dammit if I didn't miss this place, miss the kids, miss him.

I lit my cigar as I coasted to a stop near the entrance of the garage. I needed the fix before I went inside. Chuck frowned upon smoking in the mansion, unless it's in one's private quarters away from the inquisitive eyes of impressionable children. I could understand that and respected it. But Cyke won't let me smoke in our room either. Says it's hazardous to _his_ health and blah blah blah. But he's right. I may have the healing ability to keep cancer cells from forming in my lungs, but he doesn't. So I don't smoke in our room either.

So it was about a half hour later that I entered the mansion with my pack slung across my shoulder, trying to move through the long marble and oak corridors as stealthily as possible. Again, giving a shit. But whatever. I made it to my room without incident, that is until I opened the door and the scent of Scott hit my nose. _Christ on a crutch!_ How did the faint mixed scent of apples, spices, earth, soap and _Scott_ become such a fucking turn-on? Just walking into our room gave me a raging hard-on. But I hadn't had sex in over three weeks. Could you really blame me?

The room was black as pitch except for the tiny red illuminated numbers of Scott's alarm clock on the nightstand by his side of the bed. The boy was curled there even now, leaving my side of the bed untouched. Leaving room for me if I returned in the middle of the night. _Jesus._ Why the hell did I ever leave?

I dropped my pack by the door and stripped as I crossed to the bed. Cyke's breathing was deep and even. I hadn't wakened him . . . yet.

I slid under the covers and felt the warmth envelope me. Not the cold hard ground. Not a musty, made-for-one sleeping bag. Not a dingy, dirty hotel room. _My_ warm bed in _my_ own room. Mine and Scott's.

At the shifting of the bed, Scott stirred. "Mmmph? Logan?"

"Yeah, kid. It's me."

And he rolled over into my arms. Head on my chest, warm breath seeping into my bare skin, an arm tightening around my waist, and he sighed. And just then, a funny thing happened. I didn't want sex anymore – at least not right then I didn't. Yeah, I know. What the fuck, right? But he was so soft and warm from sleep. And he smelled so damn good. I just wanted to take it all in. I was back. Scott was in my arms. And I was truly home.

I kissed the crown of his head and nuzzled into the soft hair. He'd fallen into dreams again. So I took in the sound of his quiet breathing, stroked a hand up and down his back, and lost myself in thought.

How the hell was I gonna make this work? I never _belonged_ anywhere before. I never quite fit in, or wanted to for that matter. But somehow, even after everything we'd been through,_ this _– holding him against me as he slept – felt right. It felt _amazing_. The more I tried to deny it, as many times as I wandered off to "find myself", I always ended up right back here. Back to this mansion. To this school. To Scott.

He whimpered, trembled in his sleep, and unconsciously gripped me tighter.

"Shh," I whispered. "I'm right here, bub. I'm not going anywhere." And I wasn't.

I'd heard that sappy saying _"home is where the heart is."_ I never really understood what it meant until that very moment. I'd wandered this earth many times in the past fifteen years, maybe even before that – I can't remember. I always came back from wandering, but I never had a place to come home to, a place where someone was actually waiting for me. Now I did. Now I actually _wanted_ to come back, or, now that I'd thought about it, maybe my wandering days were over. And wasn't that a kick in the pants? Huh. Maybe I'd finally found what I'd been looking for.

Home.

So maybe for me, home _is_ where the heart is. But not _my_ heart. Home, to me, was where Scott's heart could be found. And right then, it was beating a slow rhythm next to mine.

But anyway, enough of the philosophical, heart-warming, gooey bullshit. Just because I was feeling all tender and squishy right then, didn't mean I wouldn't be back to my old brash, devil-may-care self in the morning. And besides, morning sex was a helluva lot of fun. I'd make Scott late for his first class and let everyone know that Logan was back. Scott would _hate_ that.

I couldn't wait.

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_Author's Note: Look for the sequel to this fic entitled "Morning." (Rated M)_


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